They Had It Coming
by fagur fiskur
Summary: Tick, pay, bam, нет, Joanna, whore. A Star Trek AU based on the song Cell Block Tango.


**A/N:** Based on the song Cell Block Tango from Chicago. I strongly recommend listening to it while reading this. Russian bit was translated by vamp66 (who is on lj, not ). I really should be focusing on other stuff, but I couldn't for the life of me get this idea out of my head.

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**They had it coming**

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The cell was dark and tiny, with the lingering scent of blood and sweat hanging in the air. The station was buzzing with sounds, but as soon as Jim had entered the cell it all became distant chatter. There were five other occupants in the cell, four men and a woman.

The woman took up most of the lower bunk, with a small boy huddled up near her feet. On the top bunk sat two older men, one of them wearing coveralls and the other a scowl, and in the corner sat the fourth in a position that could not possibly be comfortable, wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

The cop that had followed him into the cell uncuffed Jim and left without a word. The teen glanced around the room. "Sooo… you all in for murder too?"

"Aye," said one of the older men, the one in the coveralls. The woman glared at Jim, but he got no reaction from the other three. Probably murder then.

"Who'd you kill?" Jim asked the coveralls man, since he seemed to be the only one willing to talk.

The man grinned. "What, no askin' for my name? It's Scotty, just so ye know. And as far as ye know, I'm innocent."

"нет," sobbed the boy in the lower bunk. Scotty glanced at him.

"Yer right," he muttered. "I'm not innocent. But as far as I'm concerned, it was nae a crime."

"Oh?" Jim asked.

"I had this coworker, see," Scotty started. "An' he was a pain in the ass. Real tirin' to be around."

He jumped from the bunk to join Jim, who had sat down on the floor. "He had this pocket watch, a real big, clunky thing of a watch. Ugly as hell. He carried it around everywhere he went."

"Joanna," muttered the man still in the top bunk, but Scotty paid him no heed.

"Even kept it on him in the workshop," he continued. "Wouldnae been so bad, 'cept the bloody thing was so _loud. _Even overpowered the engines. And I loved listenin' to my engines purr, so ye can imagine it ticked me off."

He let out a short scream and buried his head in his hands. "Ticked me off," he muttered. "_Tick, tick, tick._ All day, it jus' would nae stop." He lifted his head again, red-faced but otherwise calm. "Then one day my coworker, Keenser, was fixin' up a T model, an' he had the watch on him."

"Pay," the woman spat. "Gotta pay."

Scotty ignored her. "Swear it's never been so loud as it was that day. I told him to turn the blasted thing off, but he would nae listen. So I grabbed this wrench, right, an' told him either you turn it off, or I'm smashin' it to bits. Bloody git ignored me, kept on workin'."

Scotty grinned again and gestured at Jim, who leaned in closer. "So I raised the wrench,"

"Whore," hissed the man sitting in the corner.

"Raised the wrench," Scotty kept on. "An' smashed the watch to bits. Not my fault Keenser's chest got in the way. Or his head. Or his crotch." He shrugged. "He had it comin'."

"That's really the best you got?" The woman said suddenly. "An annoying coworker? Christ, you'd probably kill for a sandwich."

"There's a lot I'd do fer a san'wich," Scotty replied.

The woman snorted. "Pitiful. Driven crazy by a watch ticking."

Scotty only smiled pleasantly. "An' what's yer story, miss…"

"Uhura," the woman said. "And I got busted for killing a cop."

That got everyone's attention, except the boy, who only sobbed "нет" again.

"You killed a cop?" Jim whistled. "I'm impressed. How'd that happen?"

"I was moved here from Nigeria," Uhura began. "Along with about dozen other women. And there's not a lot of honest work for illegal immigrants in this country, let alone female ones."

"Whore," hissed the man in the corner.

"You're a hooker?" Jim asked, not really needing an answer. Uhura's outfit gave her away; a short leather dress, ripped fishnets and cherry-red heels.

"Nice detective work Sherlock," she said sarcastically.

"My name's Jim."

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Like I care. Now stop interrupting my story, or do you not want me to finish it?"

Jim stayed quiet.

"My boss was the biggest asshole you'll ever meet," Uhura continued. "The slightest slip up, and he'd cut up the bottom of your feet so good, you wouldn't be able to walk for weeks."

She let her left shoe drop.

"Tick," muttered Scotty.

She raised her left foot and showed Jim the myriad of scars littered across it.

"So you killed him?" Jim asked. "But you said-"

Uhura kicked him in the head. "Shut up and let me finish. I didn't kill my boss. The cops did. Then me and the girls were brought to the women's shelter. Me, Gaila, Janice-"

"Joanna," muttered the man in the top bunk.

"-a few others," Uhura finished. "But one of the cops, Nero or some ridiculous name like that, wanted a reward. He brought me back to the station, said it was for questioning, and locked me in his office."

She sat up and leaned closer to Jim and Scotty, her face set in a disgusted sneer. "He told me I should pay him for saving me and the girls. I didn't take to the idea, so he decided to get his payment anyway. He grabbed me, and I fought. I'm sure the noise could be heard throughout the station. I kept waiting for the other cops to show up, but I guess a dirty cop is worth more than a hooker, because no one came. I cried and I pleaded-"

"нет!"

"-and he screamed back, called me a hooker, a _slut_-"

"Whore!"

"-but I got a hold of a hunting knife he kept on the desk, and-"

"BAM!" Jim shouted wildly.

"-Just like that it was over. According to the report I stabbed him five times." She shook her head. "I only stabbed him twice. Well, with the knife anyway." She grinned wickedly. "He had it coming."

Jim picked up the shoe she had dropped and examined it. The heel was covered in dried blood, disguised by the blaringly red color of the shoe itself. "Damn."

"What about you, kid?" Uhura asked.

Jim handed her the shoe back. "Mine's not half that interesting."

"I showed you mine, now you show me yours."

Jim grinned. "I'll show you whatever you want."

Uhura kicked him again, her foot mercifully still bare.

"нет," the boy sobbed again. They all ignored him.

"It started when my mom married this bastard named Frank," Jim said. "He _hated _me. Hated my brother, Sam, even more, but he's been gone for a couple of years so that doesn't really matter. I was always a quiet kid, stayed out of trouble, never talked back to Frank. See, Frank had some… old-fashioned views of childrearing."

"Joanna," muttered the man in the top bunk.

"Once Sam was gone though, he had no one to take out his frustrations on," Jim went on. "So he turned to me instead. I didn't even have to do anything wrong, it was enough for me just to be there. Just to be me. I got a beating for everything that went wrong in Frank's life, a lashing if he could somehow connect it to me. Which was almost always."

"Tick," whispered Scotty.

"I started to fight back, but I was skinny, even skinnier than now, and I had no experience at fighting. Frank pretty much kicked my ass every time. It was like that for a couple of years. My mom skipped town ages ago, never bothered to check in on Sam and I."

"Whore," hissed the man in the corner.

"Then this morning, I slept in and missed the school bus. Frank wasn't happy. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of bed. He was as mad as I'd ever seen him, and I really didn't want to stick around for the lashing."

"Pay," Uhura spat.

"Yeah," Jim muttered, his eyes wild. "I wanted him to pay. So I grabbed an empty beer bottle and broke it. BAM!" Everyone jumped. "Right in his ugly mug. Got him good too. They're still looking for his eyes. But the bastard had it coming."

"Shit," Uhura whispered. "I'm impressed." Jim had the feeling she was very reluctant to admit it. He smiled, his first genuine smile for weeks.

"нет," sobbed the boy. Jim turned to him.

"What's your name?" He asked.

The boy raised his head, revealing a tear-streaked face and desperate grey eyes.

"Your. Name," Jim repeated.

"Pavel," the boy said slowly.

"And why are you here, Pavel?"

A dam broke. "Я ничего не делал!" Pavel cried. "Я не понимаю, почему я здесь нахожусь, я не знаю, что произошло, я ничего не знаю! Когда я пришел домой, то увидел, что кто-то забрался в нашу квартиру. Хикару лежал мертвый на кухне, больше Hikaru в квартире не было! Я так испугался, а потом приехала полиция, меня схватили и привезли сюда! Я пытался объяснить что случилось, но они меня не понимают. Я ничего не делал!"

They all stared at him in dumbfounded silence.

The man in the top bunk spoke first. "So… did you do it?"

Pavel shook his head frantically. "нет. _Not_ guilty!"

"As far as I'm concerned, neither am I," Jim said. "I may have murdered him, but it sure as hell wasn't a crime."

Uhura nodded. "That sorry excuse of a cop was to blame."

"Same here," Scotty agreed. The others stared at him. "What? It ticked _really loud._"

"You're psychotic," the man in the top bunk declared. "All of you. We're all guilty as sin."

"Really?" Jim said. "And what are you in for?"

"I'm not telling you," the man scoffed. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Jim stood up and reached for it. "Try it and I break every one of your fingers."

Jim smirked. "If you're gonna clog our lungs with second hand smoke and not share, you might as well tell us your story. You owe us as much."

"I don't owe you shit," the man said.

"On with it, Bones."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Bones? Really?"

"Would you rather be 'Fingers'? You haven't given us a name."

"It's Leonard."

Jim heaved himself into the bunk and sat down next to the man. "The story, Bones."

"Obnoxious little…" Bones pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I killed my wife. That's all the story you're getting out of me."

"You just… killed her?"

"Pay," Uhura spat.

"She raised a hand against our daughter," Bones muttered. "Hitting me is one thing, but the moment she touched Joanna-"

"нет," sobbed Pavel.

"So yeah , I killed her," Bones finished. "And I don't regret it. The bitch had it coming. The only thing I do regret is I'll probably never see my daughter again."

"Whore," hissed the man in the corner. Bones turned to him in irritation.

"That's the only thing you've said since you got here," he told the man. "Who are you, Jack the Ripper?"

"I am Spock," the man said quietly, menacingly.

"What are you in for?" Jim asked.

Spock stood up and approached them slowly. "I killed a man."

"Who'd you kill?"

"His name was Stonn," Spock began, surprising Jim, who had kind of expected him to tell him to shove it. "I had known him since childhood. We loathed each other. Stonn would torment me every day, attempting to elicit an emotional response from me. He insulted me. He stole my belongings and hid them. He pushed and pushed, but he never got a response from me."

"нет!"

"One day he insulted my mother. I attacked him, and I was suspended for five days for my troubles. From that day on Stonn would tell me every day exactly what he thought of my mother. He called her a disgrace, a bitch, a _whore._"

"Pay!"

"I never assaulted him again, but I wanted to. His family moved away and I was blessedly free from his taunts for the next decade. Four days ago I met him again. He had not changed."

"Tick!"

"If anything he was even more unpleasant than as a child. Yesterday I went to visit my mother. Stonn was there."

"Joanna."

"He was attacking her. He wanted the woman he called a whore and he had no other way of getting her. I had been carrying a briefcase. I used it-"

"BAM!"

"-to bash his head in. I hit him until he let go of my mother. Long after that, I continued. Until he had stopped breathing, until his skull had caved in."

Spock's expression changed slightly. He might have been grinning. "He had it coming."

After Spock finished his story all conversation ceased. The noise around the small cell did not penetrate its walls and for a long while they sat in silence, excepting for

muttered lunacies

"Tick"

angry demands for justice

"Pay"

whispered defiance

"Bam"

desperate pleas for understanding

"нет"

mournful regret

"_Joanna_"

and vengeful rage

"Whore"


End file.
